


Lost but Not Lonesome

by RenaRoo



Series: Airazor and Transmutate [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: F/F, F/M, Femslash February
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 23:47:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9687917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenaRoo/pseuds/RenaRoo
Summary: After the Maximals are divided and and changed seemingly for the worst, Airazor tries to nurse her broken heart. But in order to do that, she may actually have to learn to open it back up. [Femslash February]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: ( @vo-kopen ) Just for the sake of asking, and feel free to reject this, but maybe a sequel to the Beast Wars stories I commissioned, taking place in a version of Beast Machines? Prompt - Tigatron is still missing along with Rampage’s Spark and other members of the team, and Airazor has been trying to distract herself from mourning by teaching Trans-Mutate Chirolingual (Cybertron sign language by hand holding) During a session Trans-Mutate signs a very intimate phrase, and Airazor is unsure of how she feels.
> 
> A/N: Thank you for such an interesting prompt! 
> 
> For those unfamiliar, I have written two fics for this same series based in a Beast Wars AU already that developed a what-if for Airazor and Transmutate’s friendship in an alternate canon. So I’m going to build somewhat off of those for this fill.

Returning home was not supposed to mean such sparkbreak. 

There was a part of Airazor, a bitter part down to her core, that was beginning to wonder what she and the others had done over the years to deserve their constant misfortune. To deserve every hitch in their path.

What _she_ did to deserve losing her sparkmate.

Of course, it was unfair that she viewed it all with such limited vision. Improper, really, considering that her vision had always been her most pointed gift. But at the end of the day, it was difficult for her to see past the veneer of mourning she had veiling her. 

Never before would Airazor have believed that seeing Silverbolt and Blackarachnia could fill her frame with such jealousy. 

Why did they get to survive together, where she still did not know where her dearest Tigatron ended up? 

She had done something truly unfair that her spark was being eternally punished for, she was sure of it. 

Curled up into herself, still getting used to the transmetal body she had been molded into after their crash landing, Airazor was left to her usual queries. Where was Tigatron? Was his spark still beating? Was he where the other missing Maximals were? Was he missing her with the same amount of pain in his spark she felt? 

Would he still love her despite her feathers and softness being transformed to be more machine than beast? He had felt so strongly about the importance of Beastmodes and nature. 

Could he still see beauty in the way she was now?

Curling into herself tighter on her perch, Airazor hid her all-seeing optics into her knees and cycled them off tiredly. 

Her depression and anguish were beyond exhausting. 

But before she could fully get her rest, she heard the loud ad familiar approach of Optimus Primal. 

While she considered feigning recharge, Airazor knew that the only instinct in her that was still honed pointedly beyond longing for her spark-of-sparks, was her duties as a Maximal soldier. She looked up, optics cycling back on before she slowly got to her feet in her leader’s presence. 

“Hello, Sir,” she said with true lackluster. “Is there something you need me to do?” 

She hoped he would see her exhaustion and anguish and leave her be, leave her to mourn more. 

But again, Airazor proved to be eternally cursed.

“I know things are difficult for the Maximals right now,” he understated. “No more so than for you, I’m sure.”

Airazor lowered her head and squeezed her eyes closed. By the _Pits,_ she loved Optimus like a father but he was increasingly bad at making her feel better in these most dire situations.

“But Transmutate is… crying,” Primal continued, and by the hesitation he gave and the expression he wore on his face, Airazor knew that he was not meaning any _normal_ cry or anguish but the reverberating, _dangerous_ sonics which Transmutate was capable of producing. “And the rest of our abilities to communicate with her are proving… woefully ineffective.”

Scowling slightly, Airazor looked meaningfully toward Optimus. “None of you have _effectively_ communicated to Transmutate. None of you other than Silvebolt an myself have gotten to an understanding with her.”

He did not back down from her rebukes, accepting them all and standing his ground. Airazor found herself marveling at the mech she already respected so much. 

“You are right,” he said. “And that has been a mistake, a mistake that was excused repeatedly by myself and others as a less important issue to be addressed at later times that never came. We did not see the value of the effort and time which you and Silverbolt have managed.”

It was certainly a comment that took Airazor a moment to fully process. She lowered her head, somewhat bashfully. “That means a lot, Sir. Thank you.”

“I’m glad it does,” he explained. “Because I want you to take things to the next level and try to expand Transmutate’s capacity for communicating with the rest of our team – _her_ team. There are too few of us left now for us to not work to use what is best for each and every one of us.”

Confused, Airazor folded her arms. “I agree that it _sounds_ like a good idea, sir, but… I’m curious about where exactly we are supposed to get there. Transmutate still has trouble communicating a lot of her feelings, and she’s very… _kinetic_ in addressing people she’s comfortable with.” Subconsciously, Airazor reached for her wings, feeling the transmetal sleekness rather than the soft billows of feathers she loved. “She associates feathers with safety… acceptance. Love. And, unfortunately, on top of everything else we’ve lost, Silverbolt and I have lost the ability to give her that small comfort.”

Optimus Primal looked almost disappointed in her. “It’s not like you to give up so easily, Airazor.”

Airazor hugged herself. “Guess it was more than my feathers that changed after all of this, Big Bot,” she replied sadly. 

“All the same, you’re my mech for the job,” he assured her. “You’ve proven your relationship with Transmutate, you’ve proven your patience, and most importantly, you were the one that discovered that she prefers kinetic interactions.”

“Yes?” Airazor asked, tilting her helm. 

“So I think the logical step is for us all to facilitate her preference,” Optimus explained. “You should give her lessons in Chirolinguistics.”

At first, Airazor was just processing the suggestion, then her optics widened. “That’s… _genius,_ Optimus! You’e wonderful for coming up with that! Thank you!”

“I probably would have been able to think of it sooner if I had been listening to you from the beginning, Airazor,” Optimus said humbly. “I trust you to take care of this.”

“Sir, yessir,” Airazor answered with a salute.

* * *

Chirolinguistics as at least as old, if not older, than spoken Cybertonian. It was meant to surpass dialects, class, and rankings. 

A language of intimacy, between friends and colleagues and more – it was a language that was _perfect_ for Transmutate. 

Transmutate, much like the rest of them, had received unexpected augmentation and upgrades when they transitioned from hyperspace and eventually crashed and lost much of their crew. Her body was more complete than it had been on the ancient earth, more coherent in its connections, though whether or not she had altmode this time around was still questionable.

Fortunately, she had much more dextrous hands than she had had while they had been on earth, and that was making the chirolinguistics lessons move along much better. 

“That’s right,” Airazor said warmly as Transmutate answered a question that had been asked in chirolinguistics. “You’re doing so well, Transmutate! Honestly I’m horrified we never considered this approach with you before.” She paused, a frown tugging at her face. “Well, I’m horrified that _I_ never considered trying other ways to communicate with you before. I suppose I was… I was almost _satisfied_ that you could talk to me, and I hadn’t made enough considerations for how you or the rest of the team were supposed to talk together.” She looked up sorrowfully at her friend. “I hope you can forgive me for being so shortsighted. I won’t let it happen again.”

In response, Transmutate smiled and ran a finger across Airazor’s knuckles. It was untranslatable to spoken language, but Airazor recognized it for its warmth and generosity. 

_Forgiveness._

“Alright then,” Airazor said, with a small, breathless laugh. “Let’s move on to the next lesson, alright? Now, this is a greeting – the shorter it is the less intimate it is. A lot like most conversations in chirolinguistics. Dragging sensation and touch is a sign of familiarity, friendship. And the slower it is, the more you mean to convey the importance of the relationship to you.” She then made a quick few pecks of her fingers, fast and rapid, enough that it alarmed Transmutate and she pulled away. “Sorry, I was just hoping to show you what it feels like to go too fast – that’s rude.”

Nodding in agreement, Transmutate looked far from pleased. “Rude,” she echoed. 

“For someone you think of as a deep, close friend, you use much longer strokes,” Airazor explained. “Like you and I, we’re each other’s best friends. We’re all each other has.” The entire time she was speaking, Airazor traced into Transmutate’s palms, running against the crevices, dragging into the curves and circling around her servos. “There are few people you would spend that much time speaking with, but I definitely think you and I qualify.”

“Oh,” Transmutate answered. She repeated the pattern but at first her movement was so slow, Airazor believed her to be hesitating. Transmutate drug her fingers, pressing deep and meaningfully into each stroke against Airazor’s palm. 

It was long, _sensual,_ and by the end, the words took on a different meaning than what Airazor had written into Transmutate’s  palms. 

They were a confession, and Airazor felt her faceplate heat up. 

“T-Transmutate,” she said, flustered. When the other looked at her in slight concern, Airazor assured herself it was an error. That Transmutate’s speed was simply out of slowness to catch on. “It’s… I think you should practice that again.”

A knowing smile curved onto Transmutate’s face and she started to trace the words into Airazor’s palms once more. 

Somehow, Transmutate found a way to go _slower._ Airazor closed her eyes and allowed her breathing to match the sensual drag and drop of Transmutate’s words. She felt nothing but the chirolinguistics against her hands, slow and budding with tension. 

Before the final words could be spelled out, Airazor stopped Transmutate breathlessly, lacing their fingers together and squeezing Transmutate’s hands back. 

Her wings flailed behind her, fanning air her way as Airazor tilted her head forward, only for her forehead to be met with Transmutate’s. 

Airazor was so surprised, so _speechless._

Shaking her head, Airazor tried to look into Transmutate’s eyes but she couldn’t bring herself to part their foreheads. “Do you know what you meant when you did that?” she asked softly. 

Slowly, Transmutate spelled out _yes_ into Airazor’s palms. 

Since losing Tigatron, since losing herself, Airazor had forgotten what it felt like to have such openly spoken love shown her way. She didn’t know how to feel, only how to spell it back into Transmutate’s hands.

They had loved and truly lost, but together, Airazor felt for the first time in her broken spark, they could maybe love _again._


End file.
